


Atrapado

by shakespeareishq



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Peter Hale, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Creature Stiles, Halloween, M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Wishes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-26
Updated: 2014-10-31
Packaged: 2018-02-22 16:52:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2514890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shakespeareishq/pseuds/shakespeareishq
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>‘Maybe cursed object attached to me. Appears to be small lamp. Advice?’</p><p>Cora is less than helpful. ‘lol did u rub it. could b robin williams.’</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Not Steter just yet but it's gonna get there, promise. 
> 
> Title from Xtina, natch, but like, the ~spanish version~
> 
> What am I doing with my life.

Peter finds the lamp in a dusty corner of an antiques shop the next state over.

Or well, it finds him.

He isn’t looking for lamps, or knickknacks of any kind. He’s trying to find a very specific amulet, one he’d tracked for two months before one of his contacts had led him here. He’s picking up a likely looking piece when the chain snags on the handle of the lamp in question, sending it toppling loudly to the floor. The wizened proprietor, who Peter has privately dubbed Old Man Jenkins, asks him if he’s alright.

“Yes, I’m fine thank you.” Peter says from behind the large shelf separating himself from the counter. He bends to pick up the lamp, and is surprised to feel that it’s warm to his touch. That’s interesting. Peter wonders if it might be cursed.

Cora is the curse-breaker of the family though, not him. The most he’d likely do would be to unleash its effect upon himself, and Peter’s been in this business long enough to know better. He has an amulet to find.

It takes him another 45 minutes, but then he spots it glinting invitingly from the depths of a brass vase. Paying a whopping 4.99 for The Sacred Amulet of Amarat, Light in the Darkness and Vanquisher of Elmatum the Terrible, Peter goes to put his treasure in his bag, only to find that the lamp is there too. Shit.

He tamps down on his panic as there’s a chance the curse might feed on fear, and merely makes his way back to his hotel before texting Cora.

‘Maybe cursed object attached to me. Appears to be small lamp. Advice?’

Cora is less than helpful. ‘lol did u rub it. could b robin williams.’

‘Haha. Very funny. It was warm when I touched it accidentally in the shop and now I’m afraid to take it out of my bag.’

‘Do u c writing or symbols on it? If you tuched it already probably wont hurt to tuch again.’

Peter, trusting his niece, carefully removes the lamp. Taking a closer look at the thing, he thinks he can almost make out words on the side, possibly a picture, but they’re covered in a layer of grime. Without thinking, Peter goes to clean the lamp with his sleeve.

There’s a bang, and then the once sturdy metal lamp is in two pieces on the floor and Peter isn’t alone in the room.

The boy standing in front of him, looking sheepish and gangly, can’t be more than about 18, judging by his face. But he did just pop out of a goddamned lamp, so Peter can’t accurately say. The kid stretches, and his back pops audibly when he does. He gives Peter a little wave.

“Hi there. I’m Stiles. Here to um, serve your every wish or whatever?”

Peter is speechless. Cora had been joking about the lamp containing a _genie_ but what else could Stiles be? A demon, maybe, but anyone wanting to trap an honest to god demon wouldn’t have made it possible for them to escape by means of some hapless idiot rubbing the side of the lamp a little. He hadn’t thought genies were even real, or if they were no one of importance had written about one in the last thousand years or so. Peter is just glad that Stiles looks every bit as confused as Peter feels.

“Master?” Stiles questions timidly, and that’s when Peter knows he’s fucked.

“Oh hell, don’t call me that. My name is Peter Hale. I’m a magical artifacts dealer based out of Beacon Hills, California, not that you’d know where that is I suppose.” Stiles shakes his head. “And believe me when I say that my…freeing you was a complete accident.”

“Maste—I mean Peter. I guess call this your lucky day then? Oh! But I need to tell you the rules.”

Peter stops him. “I’ve seen enough wish making deals go south that you can spare me your rules. I’m not interested.”

“Go south? How? Because one of the rules is that we can’t do anything to screw over our masters so if you’ve seen a genie do that then something was seriously _wrong_.”

“Well I, I’ve never seen a _genie_ per se. But there’s lots of rituals and amulets and things you can summon to get want you want. It’s always for a price though, or the wish backfires, or it only works for a short time before becoming a curse. So even if you think you’re only doing what’s good for your master, I’m not about to risk my hide to see what nastiness would befall me by wishing for anything.”

“I’m telling you, nothing nasty is gonna befall you. I don’t know what kind of other things that can grant wishes are out there, but my people tend to take pride in serving our masters. It would be unthinkable for a wish to turn out poorly. Unless um, you just weren’t a very good genie, or itwasyourfirstgigorsomething.”

“What?”

“Oh but it’s not _my_ first gig. I have totally been around the wish block yessir. I can wish you all day long I can. I mean. I probably can?”

“So not only have I become stuck with a genie who may or may not be planning my death, but he’s an amateur?”

“I swear on my lamp and my forefathers that I’m not going to kill you! I just wanna help.” His eyes get big and watery. “Please let me help Master? Peter? Please don’t make me go back in the lamp please. I’ll do anything you want, anything at all just please don’t put me back in the lamp. If you don’t want to make any wishes I’ll have to go back in the lamp and I don’t think I can do that so please. Please wish for _something_.” And then Stiles starts crying in earnest.

Peter is supposed to have defenses. He’s not supposed to let the probably-crocodile-tears of something magical and dangerous get to him. But the poor kid just looks so dejected and pitiful.

“Ok. Ok geez kid don’t cry. I won’t put you back in the lamp. Even though it looks broken to me? Can you even go back now?”

Stiles sniffs and wipes his tears on his sleeve. “Y-yeah. If um, if you command me back it’ll kind of fix itself back up. But don’t do that! You said you wouldn’t. So I believe you. And I would be a pretty terrible genie if I didn’t trust my own master.” He shakily laughs to himself. “Yeah.”

“Alright so what are the rules then?” Peter still isn’t expressly planning to make a wish, but he doesn’t think he can bear seeing Stiles break down again.

“Well there’s a couple things you can’t wish for. Nothing major, but you can’t kill anyone, or bring anyone back from the dead, and you can’t make anyone fall in love with you against their will. Same goes for making someone have sex with you. Rape isn’t ok. Lastly, you can’t drastically change the past or ask to know about things that are going to happen in the future. You could ask to time travel, but only backwards and only so long as you remain more or less ineffectual. No going off and like, becoming your own father or killing your own father or something. Beyond that? Go crazy. You get nine wishes, it’s a whole threefold thing.” Stiles waves his hand by way of explanation.

The second restriction means nothing to Peter, but the first and last ones…

Peter thinks of the burned out shell that was his ancestral home. Thinks of his mother and father, his sister and his brother-in-law, his cousins. Thinks about the six years he himself spent in a coma. Thinks about how his family’s murderers were never apprehended, and by the time his healing had kicked in and he’d come to his senses the trail had long gone cold. He thinks about being able to wish his family alive again, or the killers dead, or about being able to go back in time and stop the fire before it ever started. He’s spent the last three years trying to come to terms with all he’s lost, and now this boy brings everything to the forefront of his mind only to place it just out of his grasp.

What good is a genie that could never give him the very thing he yearns for the most?

Instead of mentioning any of this to Stiles, he says, “Let me think about what I want.”

“Sure! Take all the time you need. There’s no restrictions on me being free from the lamp as long as you have the intention to make a wish in the future.”

God help him, but Peter thinks he does.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter brings Stiles home.

Peter, it turns out, is the only one who can see Stiles.

Stiles neglects to tell him this until he’s trying to introduce the genie to Cora and Derek, and after they give him twin bewildered faces Cora starts saying something about how Uncle Peter might really be cursed after all.

In a way, he thinks, she’s right.

“Oh my god I completely forgot to tell you Master I’m so sorry. But hold on, I can still touch things.” Stiles picks up a book from the coffee table. It promptly vanishes, then reappears about a foot in the air as it drops back down with a thud. Cora switches her hypothesis from curses to poltergeists.

Derek is calmer. “If genies are real and benevolent as it claims, then why has the supernatural community not heard of one before? You’d think at least in the Middle East there would be some talk of them yes?”

Stiles answers this, despite Derek being unable to hear him. “I know this one. It’s because once the ninth wish is made and the lamp taken somewhere remote, the master will forget about the genie’s existence and location, so they can’t resummon them and get more wishes. Likely the master will explain their good fortune away rationally, and won’t start thinking it was a genie. And since no one else can see us, trying to tell their friends we exist tends to get people thrown in the loony bin. Sorry. Plus there’s the fact that someone could steal the lamp and the master would be deprived of their remaining wishes. Oh yeah, um, you shouldn’t let anyone else touch the pieces of the lamp while I’m here ok? I forgot about that too.”

Peter repeats Stiles’ explanation to his niece and nephew. It doesn’t do much to convince them.

“Hey Master, sorry, Peter. Tell Cora to hold out her hand. I have an idea.” Peter does so.

Stiles gingerly takes Cora’s hand in his own, and she promptly disappears. Derek growls and pops his claws.

“Where the HELL did my sister go? Peter tell it to bring her back right the fuck now or it gets its throat ripped out.”

Stiles yelps and drops Cora’s hand like it’s on fire, and she appears before Derek once more. Derek pulls her into a hug and asks her if she’s alright.

“I’m fine Derek. I didn’t _go_ anywhere.” Turning to her uncle, she says, “I still couldn’t see your supposed genie Peter, but I felt him. I can’t tell you if he’s a good entity or not, but you aren’t hallucinating.” Well Peter knew that much already. “I’ll ask around, see if anyone can tell us more about them, though if it’s not in our archives I can’t imagine someone else would have answers. Well I don’t know, Argent might, but gah, I don’t wanna talk to him if I can avoid it.”

Cora’s right. The Hale Vault contains probably the most comprehensive database of the supernatural in the western hemisphere, rivalled only by the Argent’s own collection. Normally, they’re friendly enough with Chris and his team that going to him for help would be the obvious choice, business rivals or no, but Peter thinks this might be different.

“I’m not sure I want Argent knowing about Stiles, at least not right away. That girl he employs might try and do experiments on him or something equally unpleasant.” Stiles’ eyes go wide.

“I for one vote no experiments on the Stiles please. I’ll tell you whatever I can so um, maybe let’s not do that.”

Peter reassures him. “No one’s going to experiment on you, I give you my word as alpha.”

“That’s as good as me swearing on my lamp right? Not that I don’t trust you Master! You’ve only been good to me. I just don’t know a lot about werewolves and I _really_ don’t wanna be an experiment. If that’s ok.”

“I swear to you by the first circle and the sword that no harm will come to you under my protection. Is that good enough?”

“Better than good enough.” Stiles is blushing. “That’s not a light oath. Wow. Thank you.” He scratches the back of his head, looking at the ground as he does so. “Ok now you should really make a wish so I don’t feel so indebted.”

Peter laughs. “I’ll make a wish soon enough, don’t worry.”

Derek interrupts. “Peter you can’t seriously be planning to wish for something can you? You know that that’s a supremely terrible idea. It could eat your soul like that one spirit does. I’m told it’s very painful.”

“ _He_ isn’t going to eat my anything. Granted, I’ve only known him for two and a half days now, but I think if he was going to try and harm me it would’ve happened.” Derek glowers and doesn’t say anything further, unsatisfied, but Peter has never known Derek to be satisfied about anything since the fire, so he takes the silence as acceptance.

Cora mentions maybe getting Stiles a notepad, so they can read what he’s saying. Peter takes that as acceptance too.

~

Another oddity about Stiles is that, while he can touch books and people, he can’t seem to touch the ground. Peter hadn’t noticed when they were in the hotel, he was still too dumbfounded by Stiles’ presence, but as they were walking to Peter’s car to start the five hour drive home it hits him that Stiles is permanently about two inches in the air. Stiles doesn’t fly, or even glide. His steps seem to have weight and purpose. They’re just slightly lifted.

Inquiring about this, Peter is met with confusion. Stiles hadn’t noticed either. He immediately tries to go higher, and then lower. Neither attempt succeeds and he ends up falling flat on his face in the parking lot. Only he doesn’t hit the pavement.

The fall hurts Stiles though, and there’s a sound when he lands like he made an impact against something solid. As Peter’s helping the genie to his feet he gets curious and runs his hand in the space between Stiles’ body and the asphalt. His hand passes through empty air. That rules out some kind of invisible support and makes Peter think that he’s some form of reality displacer which, of course he is. The boy apparently can grant wishes. Levitating isn’t such a big deal compared to that. It’s funny though, that even trying to sit in Peter’s car he still doesn't touch the seat.

~

Stiles is also bizarrely up to date on his pop culture, for someone who’s been stuck in a lamp the last 700 odd years, as Peter learns. He doesn’t know things about history, (except for some reason the complete history of circumcision…Peter never figures that one out) or even about the rest of the supernatural community (Holy shit you’re a _real werewolf??_ ), but Stiles can school Peter in the impromptu Lord of the Rings trivia contest they have on the way back to Beacon Hills.

The only explanation Peter receives is, “Dude I’m _magic_. And sitting in a lamp for seven centuries gets pretty damn boring if you don’t have anything to entertain yourself with.”

Peter imagines that’s true. He’d only been trapped in his mind for six years and he still nearly went on a murderous rampage.

Stiles finds it very exciting that he actually gets to sit in front of a real TV and really watch Peter’s Game of Thrones and Buffy DVDs, even though he has no clue what a DVD is, and he begs Peter to take him to the cinema to watch whichever Marvel movie they’re currently showing.

“You’re seriously the best master ever.” Peter had given up on Stiles calling him anything else. “And that popcorn stuff? That stuff is amazing. Humans are so cool.”

Stiles doesn’t need to eat, but he can when he wants to. Peter had told Isaac, Erica, and Boyd about their new invisible houseguest, but the betas were still on edge the first time Stiles sat down to eat dinner with the pack and three plates of spaghetti with meat sauce slowly disappeared from the empty spot at the table. Stiles has a notepad now, and he spends most of the dinner apologizing profusely.

The notepad is also how the pack finds out that Stiles calls Peter ‘master.’ Erica’s eyes light up with all the ways she’s going to use this against her alpha, Cora is belly laughing on the floor, and Derek is rolling his eyes so hard Peter thinks they might launch into orbit. Even Boyd has to hide his grin behind his hand. Peter is so doomed.

“Alright alright, you’ve all had your fun. Now get back to work.” He uses just enough of his alpha voice that the betas don’t question him, but Erica throws out a ‘yes _master_ ’ as she retreats.

“I don’t get the joke,” Stiles tells him. Peter isn’t _about_ to try and explain that one.

~

As Cora predicted, she’s unable to find anything on genies from their usual contacts or in the vault. Peter has all kinds of questions for Stiles. Where do genies come from, and how long have they existed as species? Do all genies look human like Stiles, or can they take different forms? What is it like inside the lamp?

Stiles can only answer half his queries. “I think we’ve been around as long as people have? And I don’t know where we come from. I just sort of…gained consciousness one day, and I was already in the lamp. Somehow I know that I _had_ forefathers, but I couldn’t tell you their names or even if they’re still alive. We don’t exactly have genie family reunions. I could be the last genie ever, or there could be a thousand more I don’t know. I also don’t know how you’d go about killing a genie, so my guess is that I’m probably not alone. But either way there have been others. And the rules have never changed. I woke up knowing the rules deep down in my mind: Don’t hurt your master. Don’t let them wish for anything you can’t grant. Nine wishes and it’s back in the lamp.”

Stiles pauses so Peter can take notes. “I think we all probably look human. I mean probably. And I guess the levitating thing is something we all do too, though I could walk around on the ground in the lamp just fine. It’s like a room, maybe a little bigger than that hotel you were in. I had books and a TV and a bed, and I don’t remember ever _not_ having a TV so if it’s only been around since the 20 th century like you say then I don’t know what that means. And the books and shows and movies were always different. Whenever I was bored or stir crazy or frustrated I could just pick a book at random or turn on the T.V. and it would be exactly what I wanted to watch. But I had no idea what was going on outside that room. There was a window, and it told me whether it was day or night, raining or sunny, but I could only see the sky and the sun, occasionally a bird or a cloud. I don’t think whatever is on the other side of that window is a place that actually exists on earth.”

Peter strongly considers publishing what Stiles is telling him, but he imagines getting laughed out of every respectable circle in the magical community and finding himself out of work for the next eternity, so he decides against it. They’re sitting on the bed in the guest room, now Stiles’ room. Peter makes a mental note to get Stiles more useful furniture, like a desk so he can write down more things about genies, if only for Peter’s personal files. He doesn’t know what he’ll think of said writings after he’s made his ninth wish and he completely forgets Stiles ever existed, but considering he hasn’t even made one wish yet he soon pushes it from his mind.

Stiles is equally interested about werewolves, and about the magical artifact trade. Peter gives him carte blanche to read anything in the vault that he wants, and once the rest of the pack gets used to Stiles’ undetectable presence and the sudden appearance of his small blue notebook he’s allowed to help research the various locations of things they’re trying to acquire.

He even takes up his own pet project. Stiles wants to know where his lamp physically originated from, what it’s made of, and possibly where it had traveled in the last 700 years so that it ended up on a junk table in an antiques shop. Peter too would like to know all these things so he encourages the genie in the endeavor. Peter will often find himself unable to sleep and will go down to the kitchen for a glass of water, only to find Stiles snoring into a pile of open books and scrolls.

Over the next month Stiles becomes a useful member of the team. His curiosity is endless, matched only by his capacity for innovation. He doesn’t have much in the way of patience, however. He’s constantly flitting from one text to another, seemingly trying to absorb all the information at once. Isaac lets him borrow his laptop one evening and Peter finds him at 10am the next day, still on Wikipedia.

Stiles also discovers Youtube. Erica thinks it’s cute until Stiles makes her watch 27 cat videos in a row.

Derek is the only one who still acts antagonistic towards Stiles. He concedes that the genie is good with research, and stops calling Stiles an ‘it’, but he still cautions Peter every few days against making a wish. Stiles tells Derek to stop being such a sourwolf, and then that’s Derek’s nickname for the rest of forever, much to the beta’s chagrin.

But even Derek can only growl under his breath for so long. He breaks the day Stiles shyly presents him with Peanut Butter cookies—Derek’s favorite—and writes him a note asking for a truce. Peter thinks that the last person to make him cookies was probably Talia, and he knows Derek’s gonna stop being openly hostile after that. Well, not without one last really good promise to take Stiles out should anything happen to Peter.

~

Boyd, surprisingly, is the first one to crack an Aladdin joke.

Stiles has never heard of it.

“What?!” This is from Cora, who dropped her full glass of coke when Boyd read out Stiles’ confused note. Stiles explains that he’d never asked to read or watch anything about _other genies_ because he’d never seen the need. He knew about genies, they weren’t very interesting.

Cora, after cleaning up the spilled soda, halts all progress on finding the Mirror of Katarken and looks up a download since it’s not on Netflix. The betas, even Derek, all spend the next 90 minutes huddled around Isaac’s computer, half of them invisible to the other half because they’re sitting close enough to Stiles to touch him.

Later, Stiles is so excited to tell his master about what he’d seen that he completely forgets to knock on Peter’s door, catching him in only a towel.

“Master! Master! Cora and the gang showed me this movie, Aladdin. There’s a genie and he’s just like me! Well ok not just like me, he’s blue and has no legs, but he has the same rules as me! And he can fly like me, sort of! And he’s hilarious and he sang this song about ‘you never had a friend like me’ and he made Aladdin a freakin _prince_ so he could win the girl and oh my god Master you _gotta_ wish for something really awesome like that ok? I wanna grant a super cool wish like that.”

The thought comes unbidden into Peter’s mind that he always wants Stiles to be this happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Peter's in lurrrrrrrrrrrrrve :P


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brush your teeth after this one kids.

Peter makes his first wish six weeks in, sort of as a test, and he makes sure it’s both simple and worded in such a way that Stiles can’t purposely misinterpret it, just in case.

In an unprecedented move, D’Hoffryn is selling the Yasakani no Magatama. No one knows why—it’s certainly not like the man needs the money, the cool 15 million he’s asking is small change to a demon of his caliber. But no matter his reasons, Peter desperately wants that necklace.

The problem is that D’Hoffryn _hates_ werewolves, won’t even admit them in his presence, and ever since Peter’s father scooped him on both Kusanagi no Tsurugi and the Yata no Kagami, the demon has _especially_ hated the Hales.

So Peter is going to have to get tricky if he wants a complete collection.

“Stiles?”

“Yes Master?”

“I wish for D’Hoffryn to offer to sell me the magatama, for a better price than whatever he gave Argent or Yukimura.” He would just wish for the thing itself, but if it suddenly disappears from the demon’s vault and ends up in Peter’s there will be questions.

Stiles is shocked. “Sorry what? Oh a wish! You wished a wish! Oh my god ok. An object wish, that’s totally easy. Super classic. And it’s so smart too, my master totally has style I love it. Ok! Ok here goes.” Stiles nods his head three times and snaps his fingers. “Done. Consider the magatama yours.”

The phone rings, and it’s D’Hoffryn’s people. Well he’ll be dammed.

The sale goes off without a hitch, even though Peter has to deal with D’Hoffryn grumbling about ‘werewolves’ and ‘I can’t believe I’m doing this’ the whole time. Not Peter’s problem. He has what he wants.

~

The next two wishes, made in month three and six respectively, are for similar things. Sun Wukong parts with his treasured Seven League Boots, and Peter snags Roland’s own Durendal from a mysterious seller in a little French town he’d originally been visiting to see if Sharanga was to be found there. The bow never turned up, but after Peter realizes he’s used up a third of his wishes he decides to stop using Stiles for business purposes, instant gratification be dammed.

Stiles though, he’s pleased as peaches that his master seems to have finally taken him at his word on the issue of the rules. He keeps checking to make sure Peter is _really positive_ that he doesn’t want to wish for anything from his morning coffee to the treasure of the Sierra Madre.

Peter gently puts a moratorium on Stiles asking wish-related questions.

~

Of course Argent was bound to find out sooner or later. He drops by the house unannounced one afternoon sometime between wish two and three to find Stiles helping Peter in the kitchen, measuring cups and various ingredients winking in and out of sight as he worked.

“So it’s true.”

“Hello Christopher. Thank you for calling ahead to let me know you were coming over, you might have otherwise caught me at an inconvenient time. Also I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t give me shit Hale. You found yourself a genie. Or at least you think you did. Why else would your niece have gone to Moncrieff and Worthing asking about them? Perhaps more tellingly, why did D’Hoffryn sell _you_ the magatama? I’d been promised it only days before you made the sale, so at best call me professionally curious as to how you negotiated that _without_ the use of a wish-granting entity.”

“And at worst seething with jealousy? Don’t you deal with enough green eyed monsters on a regular basis to avoid adding that one to your list? And maybe I got curious about genies, I don’t recall that being a crime.”

“It’s not, but also that bag of flour just vanished and reappeared by the stove, so I ask you to reconsider your response.”

“Dammit I forget that he’s invisible sometimes. Fine. There _might_ be a genie.” Peter calls over his shoulder, “Stiles! Stop stirring that for a minute and come over here. I’d like you to meet Chris Argent, my…associate.”

“Oh surely we’re more than mere associates Peter. I _am_ the only one who can kick your ass in basketball so thoroughly that you cry about it for a week, after all.”

“That was one time!”

Stiles is at Peter’s side now. “Should I say something?”

“Just hold out your hand so Chris can shake it.” Stiles does so, and Peter guides Chris’ hand to meet Stiles.

Chris gives a low whistle. “Well damn Hale. You certainly have _something_ there alright. Did you seriously make a wish for the magatama?”

“I confess nothing, and I deny nothing.”

“You should have been in drama club with lines like that. But aren’t you afraid it’s going to go horribly wrong? I am not pulling your furry ass out of a hell dimension again. Do you know how much I had to pay out of pocket for that?”

“You paid ten dollars and the Halfrem, which doesn’t even work anymore so you can cut the guilt trip right now. I have it on good authority that whatever I may or may not have wished for won’t send me to a hell dimension. Now do you want to stay for dinner or are you going to miss out on my fabulous pot roast?”

“I’d like to speak with your creature, maybe run a few tests.”

“Lydia will run ‘a few tests’ on the day of my funeral and not a moment sooner. But if you have anything to say to Stiles he can hear you.”

“What the hell kind of a name is Stiles?”

Stiles gets indignant. He scribbles furiously in his notebook then thrusts it into Peter’s hands for him to relay the message to Chris.

“Stiles calls you an under-ripe walnut and tells you to keep your terrible opinions to yourself.” He shows Chris the notebook. Stiles has also drawn an angry face sticking its tongue out, with an arrow pointing to it that says ‘that’s me’.

Chris laughs. “Sorry Stiles.” To Peter he says, “As much as your pot roast is sinfully good, I promised Allison and Scott that I’d go with them to that new sushi place they won’t shut up about. If I think of something I’d like to ask Stiles, I’ll call you. And Peter? Try and do a better job of keeping him under wraps. If I can figure it out then so can anyone else, and they probably won’t be so nice.”

“As much as it pains me to admit it, you do have a point. I will keep it in mind for the future. Now get your sorry self out of my sight and go eat your raw fish.”

Chris rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling. He gives Peter a little wave as he goes to the door.

Peter and Stiles return to the pot roast. “So that was Argent?”

“Indeed it was.”

“He’s not mad that I called him a walnut is he?”

Peter snickers. “Not a chance. Though I think we’re going to have to work on your witty repartee sweetheart.”

Stiles drops the ladle in his hands. “What did you just say?”

“Your repartee, it means banter or wordplay.”

“No not that. I know what repartee is. I just. You called me sweetheart.”

Peter mentally runs through the whole sentence again. Fuck, Stiles is right.

Gears start turning in Peter’s head, puzzle pieces start solving themselves. Every time Stiles has laughed. Every time Peter has ruffled his hair or squeezed the back of his neck. Every time Stiles has smiled. Every time Peter has praised Stiles for finding a new reference to whatever they were searching for. Every time Stiles has looked at Peter like he’s the whole world. They all come dancing into Peter’s mind, forming themselves into a complete picture of just how far _gone_ Peter Hale is for Stiles the genie.

Peter would have preferred for his treacherous heart to tell him this information _before_ he went and blurted it out like an idiot.

“Master?” Stiles looks worried. He’s got a tiny streak of gravy at the corner of his mouth from the ladle and Peter barely has time to weigh his options before he thinks ‘fuck it’ and kisses it away.

Stiles squeaks. But then he turns his head a fraction and they’re kissing for real. And it’s _good_. Stiles is clearly inexperienced, but he’s very persistent. Peter lifts him up without breaking the contact so he’s hovering on the counter and Stiles’ hands go to Peter’s shoulders in response. It’s only about two steps above chaste, Peter both not wanting to spook Stiles and not trusting himself to let everything he’s feeling in the moment pour out over the genie in a rush before he’s had a chance to process, but it’s _good_.

The pot roast burns and neither Peter nor Stiles is willing to tell the hungry betas the reason why.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eh I could have drawn it out longer but nah I live an instant gratification lifestyle~
> 
> Also checky out my hella buffy and shakespeare and literature and mythology references.


	4. Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little Halloween interlude~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Technically, this takes place AFTER what I have planned for chapter five, but tis the season right? :D
> 
> All you need to know is that their relationship is a little bit more established.

Peter makes sure Stiles is out in the garden snoozing two inches above the hammock before he calls his betas to a meeting.

“Now I’m not mad,” he begins.

Cora pipes up. “You know who likes to say that? Mad people.” Boyd nods in agreement.

Peter takes a deep breath and looks to the ceiling for strength. “I can’t say I’m _happy_ , about what’s happened, but if the guilty party just comes forward, I promise I won’t be mad at them.”

“Yeah you’ll just glare at them from now till Christmas, which is, incidentally, about how long Stiles is going to be singing I’d guess.” This is from Erica, who is in all probability correct.

Ok so maybe Peter is a _little_ mad.

“You all know perfectly well that he sang Aladdin for nearly five months straight after you had the bright idea to show it to him so who in the _hell_ thought that letting him watch Nightmare Before Christmas was a good plan? It’s been two and a half weeks of _that_ _song_.”

Just then six sets of werewolf ears perk up to the sound coming towards the house.

“Boys and girls of e-va-ry age, wouldn’t you like to see something strange? Come with us and you will see, this our town of Hal-lo-ween!”

Peter rubs his hands over his face. He loves Stiles, he does. But once the boy fixates on something…

Stiles reaches the chorus as he reaches the door. “This is Halloween! This is Halloween! Pumpkins scream in the dead of night! This is Halloween! Everybody make a—” Stiles stops to scribble a ‘hi guys! Happy Halloween!!!’ in his notebook.

“Happy Halloween Stiles,” Isaac and Cora chorus. Peter instantly puts them both a notch higher on his suspect list.

“Stiles,” Peter is as patient as he can be, “werewolves and other supernaturals…we don’t really celebrate Halloween. It’s kind of, well, tacky.”

“But Master! Halloween is _awesome_. Like seriously awesome. You get candy and people are scared, but in a fun way! And all those kids get to wear really neat costumes—some of them even dress up as genies, how fun is that? I mean it’s kinda hilarious what they think we _wear_ but representation matters!”

That’s not quite what that phrase means, but Peter’s got more important things on his brain, like how to get Stiles to Stop. Singing.

Stiles continues, “And Derek let me watch this one movie, about the Pumpkin King and how he was gonna make Christmas, but _then_ he finds out he’s better at Halloween anyways.”

Derek! Peter turns to give his nephew the death eye, only Derek isn’t on the couch anymore. Smart man.

“So hey, Master, I was thinking, even though people can’t see me so I can’t go trick-or-treating, could we still walk around to the houses and watch the kids get candy? Some people have really cool decorations up and I think it would be fun.” Stiles seems then to notice that Peter is less than thrilled by the whole affair, and the genie deflates a little. “Or I mean, whatever’s cool with you.” Stiles is looking at the floor now, embarrassed.

Oh no. A sad Stiles is about a billion times worse than a singing Stiles in Peter’s book. Dammit. Peter Hale, extremely powerful alpha werewolf and accomplished tradesman besides, is going to have to go trick or treating. If Chris finds out about this, it’s going to be worse than the basketball thing by several _miles_.

“Ok Stiles. We can go just this once.” Stiles looks like it’s both Christmas _and_ his birthday. “Cora, you come with us. You look young enough to pass for trick or treating age, and you can give Stiles half your candy.”

Cora looks equally delighted, but then she considers the prospect. “But Uncle Peter, don’t you need a costume to get candy? I um, don’t have one of those.”

“I don’t know…cut some eye holes in an old sheet for all I care.”

Erica waves her hand. “No family of mine is going to be caught dead in ‘an old sheet with some eye holes.’ Halloween is go big or go home, even I know that much. Come on Cora, let’s see if we can’t figure something out.” With that the two girls go off to raid Erica’s massive closet, giggling their way down the hall.”

“Don’t put her in anything indecent!” Peter calls after them, but knowing Erica it’s too late.

Stiles is acting like someone just gave him about a pound of sugar, practically vibrating with excitement. “Oh Master, thank you! I’m gonna go trick or treating this is so great! I’ve never been before of course, and it probably won’t be the same as it would if people could see me, but it’s still gonna be _so cool_.” Stiles gives Peter a long kiss on the mouth, and Peter tries not to melt too much.

Boyd eventually coughs, and they break apart, Peter popping back into view with mussed hair and kiss-red lips.

Isaac asks, “Is there anything we can do?”

Stiles writes him a note. ‘You could give out candy?’

“But Stiles, we don’t have any candy to give out.” Isaac looks genuinely perturbed by this. Boyd offers to take Isaac to the store to go get some. Peter’s entire pack has lost their damn minds.

It’s still about two hours before it’s dark enough to go out, by Peter’s estimate, so he begs off entertaining Stiles in lieu of trying to find Derek. Really, he just wants to go to his room and sulk.

Halfway to his room he hears Stiles start up again with, “Skeleton Jack might catch you in the back and scream like a banshee make you jump out of your skin!”

God he hates Halloween.

~

Later, Peter wakes to Stiles gently nudging him back and forth. He yawns, hadn’t even meant to fall asleep. Stiles gives him a quiet smile and moves to hover on the edge of the bed.

“Hey Master.”

“Hey yourself. What time is it?”

“A little after ten. You seemed really tired so Erica and Cora went out with me.”

“I’m sorry Stiles. I did intend to go I just—”

“No don’t be sorry. I had lots of fun, and Cora gave me most of her candy and Erica hit on like, every dad handing out stuff to see how much she could make them squirm it was _hilarious_.” Stiles pauses, “Plus they told me you thought it was annoying when I sang the This is Halloween song, so feel free to get a spray bottle and scold me if I start doing it again. You gotta communicate stuff like that though Master, I’m magic but I can’t read minds.”

“You should feel free to sing whatever you want Stiles, it’s not up to me to scold you.”

“Yeah but, you’re my master. I want to please you.” And doesn’t that phrase just go straight to Peter’s dick?

“Trust me when I say you do an excellent job of pleasing me just the way you are. I’m just a bitter old man about Halloween, but ignore me and go have fun. Make Derek watch something creepy and he’ll hide behind the couch at the jump scares. It’s pretty damn funny.”

Stiles gets a glint in his eye, his whole demeanor turning mischievous. “But Master, what if I wanna have fun right here? With you?”

It’s then that Peter registers what Stiles is wearing.  

The cape is large, covering most of Stiles’ body, and Peter vaguely recognizes it from Cora’s last trip to the ren faire. But that’s not the interesting bit. The interesting bit is the barest hint of bright red corset, garter belt, and stockings Peter can see peeking out from the opening in the cape.

“It’s supposed to be little red riding hood, though I always thought it was her riding hood that was red and not her…outfit. But Erica swore that you wouldn’t care so I guess I just gave it a shot?”

Peter owes Erica about 20 million favors.

“Oh sweetheart. Oh _Stiles._ Please take that cape off so I can see you?”

Stiles stands up and complies, if shyly.

He’s an utter vision in what Erica’s picked out, her eye for style impeccable despite her subject being invisible. The black crushed velvet patterns swirling up the sides of the silken corset entice Peter to run his fingers along them, the material of the garment hugging Stiles in all the right ways. This is to say nothing of the way Stiles’ half-hard cock bulges out of the scrap of red and black lace that passes for panties. Peter wants to debauch every inch of him.

Peter beckons Stiles closer, and brings his head up to where the top edge of the corset just brushes the bottom of Stiles’ nipples so he can suckle at them.

Stiles’ hands fly to the back of his head. “ _Master_ ,” he breathes out in a whine.

Peter guides Stiles so the genie’s hovering over him on the bed, hands reaching up to grab at Stiles’ ass and pull him close.

“I suppose if you’re little red then I get to be the big bad wolf, yes?” With anyone else Peter would’ve kicked them out for their role-play ideas being so corny, but not with Stiles. Never with Stiles.

“You can, _oh!,_ you can be anything you want Master. Anything you wish.”

“Ah, but it’s against the rules to wish you in bed with me, remember? Looks like we’ll have to do this the old fashioned way.” Peter has a hand down the back of Stiles’ panties and is teasing at the rim of his hole, and Stiles seems unable to decide whether to push into it or squirm away. Stiles eventually tilts his head so they can kiss lazily while Stiles moans and grinds little circles into Peter’s hips. Peter uses his unoccupied hand to start undoing the garter belt. He’s going to make Stiles keep the corset on.

Halloween is officially his new favorite holiday.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
